You're like the sun, you know'
by jerrylabaguette
Summary: A long overdue letter to Fleur


"You're like the sun, you know?"

I do admit he is harrowingly beautiful, his grace, his lightning inducing walk. It tears my mind apart with the notion that he is yours and mine. I'm still held in captivity of his beauty and soul just like you are. You're the reason I'm drenching myself in illogical words. I do not know if I am jealous of you or him.

But I realised that His love is what I crave, yet you need to know I have two minds, two bodies. The mind of a writer is never fulfilled with one object of wonder. So they seek for more, and I seek for you. Hungrily, I was seeking for a muse. I found one in him, but I never once expected to find one in you. Not once. You're a collection of imaginings. The fruitful life that only exists in daydream. You are real and you are not, all at the same time. Your words create delusions in my brain, but god knows your touch warm me to my bones. Your lips like flower petals in the morning sun. When we kiss -while acting like 'lovers' in the busy street- my heart became the moon. Always longing to catch sight of the depreciating yet all the more blooming petal that thrives underneath this sky. I'm writing a love letter, which is very unlike of me. Frivolous act, you might call it. We are writers, you and I , we cannot pour our intelligence and eloquence into writing a simple piece of art. But don't you realise that this letter hold all my reticent thoughts ? Don't you realise by reading this you have already taken hostage of my brain by reading all my drafted feelings?

He has accepted it now, after I returned from your amorous arms. He knew from the beginning he would lose me to your mind. It's laughable since I once to which replied 'never in years will I fall for another chaos'. Do not be offended, you know you are in chaos Fleur, we all are but you revel in such spirals. There's a difference between you and I, I am just a recollection of fulgurant notions. You are the pieces of mosaics that have yet to be glued.

Do you remember that secluded alley when I was waiting hours for you. Not because you were late, I just wanted to calm my senses and gather myself before falling for you. We spent only a dozen minutes together before we had to part. He was calling for you to be back home. So we ran under the sky's drizzle of adoration and caught a taxi. I remember how out of breath you were, your cheeks painted with exhaustion. It was then that I knew, you're a one of a kind muse. I was craving to accompany your presence to him, but I don't trust myself. You and I both know I was susceptible to loving him too. While holding my hand just as the door closes, I told you 'I want to kiss you' and you replied with -the words only in dreams- 'I want to kiss you too'. My soul was burned a thousand times, my lips suffered third degree. But is there anything for enlightening to a soul than to be brought to its climax and left there thawing in flames?

You left and I did too. That was when I wanted to be you, or maybe I wanted you close, my mind is meddled, maybe I wanted your entity to be reduced to grains and be absorbed in me, I wanted to be so terribly close to you.

He and I, we have an honest and endearing kind of love. A steady burning love that once entwined our souls and minds. He shared his thoughts with me without insecurity. A favour that I have yet to return. With a scared tongue, he once told me 'love between women are powerful, it is not defined by hurtful fights and lust, more of admiration and beauty, they understand and lift each other, love between women simply cannot withstand life" His envisioning would have convinced me if I did not comprehend the concept of our affections.

I'd imagined you are still enticed with him, and I dare to think that your mind is preoccupied with me also. This is not a letter inferring for a response. It is a letter of goodbye. My mind can't be intermittently brought to life, I am not patient enough to be forever waiting for your presence, just for you to leave and I be held with his arms. I find it to be sickening how I've learnt to deceive myself to thinking his arms are yours.

Never have I met a muse so dangerous and whom who holds so much resplendency.


End file.
